sixthiterationlogs | mingle post

WHO: Jess Brightwell and everyone!
WHERE: The inn.
WHEN: Sept. 28th to Oct. 11th.
OPEN TO: Everyone who lives at or would visit the inn during the non-stop rain. If you don't feel like making a log for the inn but want a place to tag around, this is the mingle post for you!
WARNINGS: Will update if necessary.
STATUS: Open. Mingle away, comrades.

There's nothing quite like the sky opening up and releasing a torrential downpour to bring people together. With water coming down in buckets and the streets turning into waterways, it would be wise to seek shelter until this lets up...

If it ever lets up.

For those needing a place to warm up, the inn has a roaring fire and hot tea waiting. Pass the time watching the rain at the window, or telling stories around the main room's fireplace, or enjoying friendly company in the pub. You're even welcome to stay the night in one of the inn's spare rooms, just don't mind the leaks. It's an old building. Luckily there are plenty of buckets to go around.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Tony turns at the sound of yet another familiar voice, and isn't entirely surprised to see Steve given that 1. He's seen Steve already, 2. Few other people manage to hit that specific tonality, and 3. Just because of course it's Steve. Who else would ask Tony to go back out into the torrential downpour to chop down potential firewood that won't be useable for days because it's so soaked through with water.

Anyway, Tony's not assuming that particular level of involvement - more along the lines of being some guy who can pull on the other end of the saw - but why the fuck not. He doesn't have much else to do, and the fire seems to as yet be stocked in the immediate sense that Tony can right now go out into the rain and still come back to a nice fire.

"Sure. Beats trying to mentally calculate a more efficient fuel-to-thrust ratio since I can't actually put theory to test here. You got a tree in mind, or are we just going Saw on whatever we see first?" The latter part is said as Tony moves to his feet, only a little residual squelching involved.

Well, maybe he didn't mean this particular fire, but there's no telling when the rain will stop. If they're gonna need it down the line, might as well cut it down now and get it someplace where it can start to dry. Tony can assume whatever level of involvement he wants to; in truth, Steve could figure it out easily enough on his own, if his grasp of physics (so to speak) is more intuitive than learned, but the alternative was seeing Tony and walking on by him. He'd heard he was here from Natasha, and Steve hasn't sought him about before now, but that's another thing entirely.

When Tony gets to his feet Steve nods and starts to lead the way.

"Think I found one that'll work. Shouldn't be too hard to cut through. Not too much debris that could fall on us from above, and it's on an incline, so we can control the direction it falls." He keeps a hand on the door for Tony to follow him — less holding it for him than ensuring it doesn't close in his face the moment Steve passes through, though it does allow Steve to glance at him again, a wry pull already at the corner of his mouth. "I'm hoping to avoid any bloodbaths either way."

He turns away to go down the steps of the inn, silent for a moment even after his hand leaves the bannister and he starts them back the way he came, boots leaving prints in the road, if it can be called that. Then, because he never seems to stop trying with Tony in the face of his failure to make any kind of easy connection (he's wondered if it's motivated, sometimes, by guilt, but likes to think not), he adds, "You must be going a little stircrazy without your workshop."

It's pessimistic thinking on his end, really. He's having a bit of a problem with that, being a bit prone to it naturally, albeit in contradictory ways, and having literally none of his usual methods to distract himself from falling further into that vein. Tony likes to look toward the future, enjoys looking up and out, but that's typically despite other instincts telling him to look the other way.

Anyway, he does recognize that regardless of when it is accrued, firewood is in constant need around here, and in case the rains hold up like this for some reason, it's better to let the wood start drying now than risk running out in the interlude.

"Sounds good," Tony remarks, stepping through the doorway. He might remark about how now would be a good time for a bloodbath, considering all the rain would clear whatever evidence came up, but. He doesn't. There's no particular reason.

It works out anyway, because Steve actually speaks up before Tony can say something about whether Steve just walks around in the rain looking for trees to cut down or if he was headed to the inn from somewhere else and was distracted somehow. It helps that Steve's question is actually quite on point. Potentially obvious, but accurate. "I wonder what the largest unit of 'little' is. Relatively speaking. I'm considering systematically dismantling the houses that the earthquake apparently hit for spare parts. Or fixing the forge. Or the mill. Or the fact that the fountain can apparently stop running water and hold people hostage. Anything you're particularly interested in being repaired? My carpentry skills are somewhere between pinewood and soapbox derby, but I can probably still manage as long as that's the lesser element involved."

"If it makes you feel any better," Steve says, while changing course just slightly to step off the road, his boots squishing further into the ground as he does so and leaving their imprint behind more clearly now, "one time we replaced a broken table with a door we'd taken off its hinges. Threw it over the tub and called it a day. So you've got a leg up on me."

Not that it's much of a surprise. Tony builds things; it's only a matter of time before he's got a leg up on everyone, Steve thinks. But if Tony's instinct isn't necessarily to look toward the future, it's always been Steve's. He doesn't pull out his back-in-the-days too often, and not just to avoid any playful ribbing that maybe digs a little too deep sometimes. He doesn't want to always dwell on his losses; he wants to be a whole person with a place and a purpose. So he tries to carry it forward with him, to be grateful for what he has and, in the case of Bucky, grab onto it kicking and screaming and not let go, if he has to.

He has no idea how to do that here.

"Can't think of anything I need, but there'll probably be plenty after the winter, if we're still here. Taking those houses apart isn't such a bad idea. If you decide to do it let me know if you could use some help."

"Necessity is the mother of efficiency. That's how that one goes, right?"

He flips up the collar of his already-wet-so-it-doesn't-really-matter jacket and pushes his hands into the pockets while he shifts direction to continue walking alongside Steve. The fact that Steve has nothing in particular he wants done isn't particularly surprising - the guy can probably handle any repairs here that Tony can do anyway, or he'd have already asked if it was important. So, not surprising, but a little disappointing anyway. It's been a long time since he went this long without something good to dig his hands into, and it's not even like there aren't things that he could be doing here, it's just that he doesn't have the means to do them.

It's infuriating in a cool, low sort of way. Like a sunburn sneaks up on you at night.

"I'm sure after a point there will be some questions as to the structural integrity of said houses and even more as to the sanity of dismantling them alone, so be ready. If the weather ever lets us outside again."

Tony does manage another couple of steps before changing the subject at least. "Speaking of 'if we're still here' - which I did notice, how very unoptimistic of you - who even led you in the direction of that movie?

mingle post | open

so late ;; so sorry

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